The Long Haul
by roses in bloom
Summary: Neville is content with Hannah. Then along comes Draco Malfoy and Neville realizes that happiness might actually be attainable. Slash.
1. Prologue

Neville never felt so unattractive as during sex with Hannah.

Sweat beaded on his brow, dampening his hair and causing it to hang lank across his face. The close quarters between him and Hannah made him self-conscious of his body, especially as it was displayed when he thrust into her. He was well aware that the angle of their bodies tended to display his… less attractive qualities.

To her credit, Hannah never said anything derogatory after they'd finished, but Neville felt the shaming silence just as vividly. After two years of marriage he was beginning to wonder why they had gotten married in the first place.

It had seemed so natural to propose to his girlfriend at their graduation party, filled with heady excitement for the future. Hannah was beautiful in a quiet way and far out of his league, but after dating for a few months Neville had taken a chance. He bought the best ring he could afford, done his best to fix his hair, knelt down… To his everlasting surprise she said yes.

Two years was a long time to be married to someone who really only liked you more than her other options. Hannah was preoccupied with her work and her social life, only home in the late evening and seldom willing or able to spend time with her husband. Sex was dealt with routinely, usually once or twice a week, and while pleasurable, often left Neville cold afterward.

Life wasn't awful though, Neville reminded himself. He had been taken on as an apprentice to Professor Sprout, who was grooming him to take over the position once she retired. Neville loved the time he spend experimenting with different combinations in the Hogwarts greenhouses, where he felt most himself.

Neville was content—of a sort. Being with Hannah was better than being alone after all. It wasn't as if his true love was going to pop out of the woodwork. Epic love wasn't for everyone anyhow, some people were better off with a milder version.

Life moved on and the status quo was maintained. That is, until Hannah—and Neville by consequence—was reacquainted with Draco Malfoy in her work at the Ministry.

* * *

Neville never felt so attractive as during sex with Draco.

It wasn't that he had lost any of the pudge that had tormented him since childhood. It wasn't that he had figured out the right way to move during intercourse that somehow masked his body. Sex with Draco was simply so enthralling that Neville forgot to care about his own awkwardness.

With Hannah, Neville had been afraid—to hurt her, to not perform adequately, to know what she was thinking, to not give her pleasure. With Draco he found it hard to do anything but just live in the moment.

Draco's arms would clutch at his shoulders frantically as the blond groaned a litany of curses and demands. Neville much preferred Draco's bitchiness to Hannah's stoic silence.

Their flat outside of London was quickly becoming Neville's favorite place. He liked to curl up on the sofa, watch the tele and give Draco a foot massage while the blond ranted about what Neville's ex had done at the ministry that day.

Hannah and Draco had a volatile relationship at best—Hannah resenting Draco for being the catalyst for her divorce, and Draco being unwilling to be the bigger man and back down from the constant nitpicking.

Neville had a better connection with Hannah— the two were cool acquaintances at present, but Neville had hopes for a friendship to form out of the shambles of their marriage. It helped that Hannah was dating a bloke from St. Mungo's—though he hadn't begun a relationship with Draco until after their divorce was finalized, the blond had played a major role in the process, and their relationship was a sore spot for Hannah.

As Neville reflected on his life at present, he was forced to admit that he was no longer content. Neville was finally happy.


	2. Chapter 1

When Hannah returned from the Ministry that day, she swept into their flat in a maelstrom of barely repressed anger. The front door slammed shut, followed soon after by their bedroom door, and Neville could hear Hannah rummaging through the wardrobe and cursing violently to herself.

"Hannah?" When no response came to his tentative question, Neville ventured into the bedroom after his wife, wincing as Hannah's expensive clothes flew across the room to fall in disorderly piles.

"What's wrong, love?"

"That arrogant _weasel_!"

"Ahh," Neville hummed in confusion. "Ron?"

"No, Malfoy!"

"That arrogant _ferret_, you must mean," Neville joked with a timid smile.

Hannah, not amused, ceased her rummaging long enough to toss a dirty glare in his direction.

"Er—what about him?"

"He called me a nobody with shoddy fashion sense. _Me_!"

Neville clucked in sympathy as best as he could, though he shot a tell-tale glance at the piles of frill and lace that made up his wife's wardrobe. He didn't particularly understand why the majority of Hannah's paycheck went toward the articles of clothing now populating their floor (though he thought it appropriate as a Herbologist that the frills resembled a rather tenacious growth of pastel weeds), but he knew better than to mention it.

"So what are you looking for then?"

"An outfit even Draco-bloody-Malfoy can't look down on for tonight."

"Hannah," Neville ventured to say, cautiously putting out a hand in the attempt to calm her, "I don't think that's such a good-"

"Get _out_!"

Neville blinked, bemused from his position in the corridor where he'd been unceremoniously tossed out. Rubbing a weary hand across his nose that still felt the sting from the door slamming into it, Neville trudged back to the kitchen to pour himself a tall glass of cola— Hannah ruled with an iron fist over his diet, and the occasional soda-pop had to be sipped surreptitiously to avoid suspicion—knowing that Hannah would be too busy with her fashion crisis to pay attention.

Sometimes Neville wondered whether all marriages had these times of tension. He had been given the 'marriage talk' by his Gran when he'd proposed to Hannah two years ago.

'Neville,' his Gran had said with a stern gaze, 'marriage isn't easy by any means. You need to work hard to remember how much you love each other and let _that_ dictate your behavior.'

Neville had tried to act out his Gran's advice, but it was becoming increasingly hard to remember how much he loved Hannah. He was fond of her, sure, but that wasn't quite a strong enough emotion to motivate him to weather out her storms of rage and frustration.

What else was he going to do though? No, Neville decided, this must just be a rough patch. He winced as a loud thud came from the direction of their bedroom. Alright, a _very_ rough patch.

"There! How do I look," Hannah demanded, stomping into the kitchen and twirling for Neville's viewing pleasure. He gulped and shifted his cup behind him.

"Erm… very nice?"

Hannah giggled girlishly, swaying side to side in her _new_ robes, mood quite improved. "Witch Weekly says that mint green is the new pink!"

Neville rather thought that mint green made Hannah's complexion look rather worse for wear, but he nodded in agreement anyway.

"Come on then, time to get dressed!"

He blinked in surprise. "For what?"

"Fletcher Drubbins retirement party, of course. Don't tell me you forgot!" Hannah eyed him suspiciously.

"Ah! Well I-"

"I don't believe you!" Hannah was in a mood again, lunging forward to poke him irritably in the chest. One particularly vicious poke sent him flinching backwards, causing him to knock over his cup of (forbidden) soda pop.

The fizzy beverage spilled over the countertop and dripped ominously to the floor. The couple stared at it in sudden silence.

"Neville," Hannah hissed in displeasure, "I don't want to start with you right now. Bloody get changed!"

Neville nodded miserably and did just that.


	3. Chapter 2

Fletcher Drubbins had served as head of the Office of International Relations & Exchange for the past 30 years. Unfortunately, he had only been lucid for about 20 of those years. Much like Professors Binns—though thankfully Drubbins had come to his senses _before_ he had died—the office head had been merely filling a chair the last 10 years, as no one quite had the heart to throw out a fixture in the Ministry of so long.

Neville fidgeted behind Hannah in the receiving line that wound past Drubbins' family as scores of Ministry employees and affiliates congratulated the man for his many years of service. He rather thought that Professor Binns looked more alive and aware than the slowly blinking man bedecked in archaic and musty mustard yellow robes.

He breathed a sigh of relief as they passed said man and eyesore, helping himself to a glass of port on a nearby waiter's tray. Knowing that his wife would be cross with him if he didn't at least offer one to her (despite her finding it horribly distasteful), Neville picked up a spare and consoled himself with the knowledge that the glass would in fact be his to enjoy.

He thought better when he approached Hannah and found her talking with Draco Malfoy. He mourned his second glass of port when Hannah ripped it from his hands and downed it in one violent motion.

Draco eyed her with amusement. "Always knew you were a lush, Abbot—you certainly dress yourself like you are perpetually intoxicated."

Hannah seethed. "**I** **do not. **And it's _Longbottom_, not Abbot."

"Ah yes! And here is the doting husband. How do you do?"

Neville eyed Draco's offered hand with suspicion. "Well, I suppose," he said, shaking hands after a moment's hesitation.

"A fascinating conversationalist as always, Longbottom."

Neville's lips twitched into a smile at the absurdity of the situation—the bane of his childhood was speaking almost civilly to him! If only his sixteen year-old self could see him now…

As Neville drew out of his amused reverie, Draco was sweeping away in an elegant fashion, making Hannah sputter in outrage as the edges of his royal blue cloak swatted her in the side. Neville fancied he had seem Draco's lips quirk up in return. No—probably just his imagination.

Hannah tugged irritably at his sleeve, spitting venom about her treacherous co-worker and Neville reached for another glass of port. It would be a long night indeed.

* * *

"MY DEAR FRIENDS AND ESTEEMED CO-WORKERS," announced the booming voice of Fletcher Drubbins, whose faulty hearing caused him to shout for fear that others couldn't hear him.

"THE TIME HAS COME FOR ME TO SAY MY GOODBYES. I KNOW THAT THIS MAY COME AS A SHOCK TO ALL OF YOU, BUT MY FACULTIES ARE NOT WHAT THEY ONCE WERE."

Neville glanced to his left at the sound of a poorly concealed snicker. His eyes lit upon Draco Malfoy clamping a pale hand over his smiling mouth. Seeing Hannah preoccupied while chatting with her neighbor in the crowd, Neville motioned to the former Slytherin.

"What are you laughing at?"

Draco eyed him in curiosity—Neville found himself inexplicably swallowing to wet his dry mouth at the expression—and told him, "Just yesterday I dropped off a memo for Drubbins and found him…._ahh_, _how to say this delicately?..._ in flagrante delicto."

Neville cast an incredulous glance toward the stage and the tottering old man shouting on it. "Who with?"

"That's the thing," Draco confided with a sly grin. "There wasn't anyone else…. Apparently he is quite enamored with his desk—in fact, as a reward for his many years of service, the Ministry is letting him take it with him when he goes. Hate to be his successor otherwise."

Forced to hide his own snicker, Neville exchanged a glance of hilarity with the blond. "I wonder—does his wife know?"

Draco eyed the prim woman frowning at her husband shouting on the stage. "If not, she will soon. Don't know who I feel more sorry for…"

"The desk," Neville quipped with a chuckle.

"Quite," Draco responded with a curious smile. He leaned closer. Neville found himself holding his breath unexpectedly and, irritated with himself, released it slowly. Draco was still leaning closer.

"Longbottom," Draco was saying, but Neville was focused more on the tone of voice—deeper than usual, was it?—and not the words.

"Neville!" Hannah trilled in his right ear. He flinched, the moment lost as Draco turned on his heel, and looked toward his wife. "Susan has just had the most wonderful idea!"

Neville nodded, trying to act interested, even as his eyes tracked Draco's progress across the room.


	4. Chapter 3

_I am not abnormally interested in Draco Malfoy_. Neville breathed deeply, focusing on his mantra for the moment: _I am married to a lovely—erm, most of the time anyway—woman and I am not abnormally interested in Draco Malfoy._ Right.

Neville bit his lip and eyed the brochure that Hannah had dropped off with him before she joined her friends for a drink.

**TWO PEAS IN A POD: COUPLE'S RETREAT & WORKSHOP **read the colorful display. Wizarding photographs on the front flashed over different couples kissing and smiling at the reader. Neville rather thought that some of the men looked as harassed as he felt.

'_Susan has just had the most wonderful idea!"_ Hannah had told him at the ministry function the night before. _'It's a couples retreat! Very exclusive, you know—her sister's marriage was on the rocks and they fixed them right up! It sounds like a hoot!'_

Neville had been a bit concerned at the mention- _'Do you think we really need counseling?'_

Hannah had exchanged amused glances with her friend Susan and patted his hand gently: _'We just need a bit of spicing up, that's all.'_

He stared blankly at the two of them giggling madly until the meaning translated. Then he blushed bright red. Sex therapy. Great.

Now it was Friday night and their bags were packed and ready for them to get an early start the next morning. Neville sighed in dismay.

He supposed most blokes would be thrilled at the opportunity to make love all weekend in who knows what kind of kinky ways, but Neville was already feeling violated at the thought of sharing that aspect of their lives with strangers.

Furthermore, what need did they have for this sort of thing? Did Neville not satisfy Hannah in the bedroom? Why hadn't she said anything before?

Neville groaned and threw the brochure as far away as manageable. What a disaster.

* * *

"Welcome, welcome!"

"Yes, hello," Neville replied to the rather excitable man that greeted them as they stumbled (well, Neville stumbled while Hannah just stepped gracefully) out of the fireplace. The floo network was dodgy in some places off the main line and Neville found himself longing for the simple connection between their flat and the carefully warded stopping point he used to access the Hogwarts greenhouses.

"We're the Longbottoms," Hannah supplied the receptionist whose nametag proudly declared him 'Freddy.'

"Excellent! You are in room 39—please do make yourselves comfortable!"

Hannah took the proferred key and hurried toward their shared room, leaving Neville staring morosely at the luggage at his feet. With a sigh, he picked up the heavy bags (unfortunately impervious to shrinking charms) and made the long trek down the corridor.

* * *

The Couples Retreat & Workshop, or rather Sex Therapy, as Neville thought it should be truthfully called, was possibly _the _most humiliating experience in Neville's life. He didn't know what possessed him to agree to this most recent whim of Hannah's, but being told in a room of strangers that you are 'emotionally unavailable' and 'physically inhibited' was enough to make him insane.

Sitting in a 'secure circle of truth' and listening meekly as Hannah complained about their intimate married life, Neville bit his tongue as it threatened to let loose a myriad of his own complaints about Hannah's behavior. It seemed that they were on the outs again.

Their 'Friendly Guide' was wide-eyed, the other couples a mixture of sympathetic and uncomfortable. Neville cleared his throat, trying to get Hannah's attention.

"Hannah—I'm not sure this is the best place—"

"-another thing! I can't stand it when you interrupt me like I have nothing important to say!"

"But I don't-"

"You think you're so much better than me—killed that bloody snake, pureblood family, old money, good job—but I have prospects too!"

"But I-"

"**Don't interrupt me!**"

"Ahh," their counselor cut in gently. "I do believe that we've gotten off the topic at hand. All the same, Hannah, I think that you've said quite enough."

Hannah huffed, wound up from her tirade and throwing a dirty glare at the counselor for the interruption, and Neville for the perceived wrongs committed against her.

Their counselor continued: "I think you two need an actual counselor—you have a lot of deep-seated issues that need to be address and I just don't have the resources. I have a few names if you are interested."

Hannah sat in stony silence, leaving Neville to fill the awkward pause. "Ahh, thank you, but I don't think-"

"Yes, we would like your recommendations," Hannah interrupted sternly, elbowing Neville sharply.


	5. Chapter 4

"Well, Mr. Longbottom," the therapist simpered, "When did you find that you were emotionally unavailable to your wife?"

"Pardon?"

"Answer the question, Neville!"

Neville risked a glance at his wife and winced at her expression. Hannah was at her worst when she had a third party to justify her anger.

"I don't think that I am, that's all."

"You don't respect my personal time, you think my passion in life is silly and you don't do any romantic gestures!"

You only spend the minimum possible amount of time at home as it is, your passion for clothing **is** ridiculous, and any romantic gestures I've done you haven't appreciated, Neville wanted to respond. As it was he only said softly, "I didn't know you thought that about me."

The therapist, clearly in over his head, cleared his throat and shuffled some papers to break the awkward silence that resulted.

"I want someone who can love me completely," Hannah whispered brokenly, "and I don't know that you are capable of that."

"I've tried," Neville began in a hush, feeling desperately embarrassed to bare his emotions in front of a stranger.

"Do you know," Hannah interrupted, "that I never understood why you wanted to marry me?"

"What? But-"

"Please let me speak!" Hannah clutched his hand and his mouth closed with an audible snap.

"Neville, you did so many great things for the world during the war. I saw a man who would stand up for what he believed and thought that you would be a force to be reckoned with in the future. I wanted to be at that man's side and achieve things with him."

She hesitated, pulling her hand from Neville's and skittering her gaze to the ceiling to avoid his eyes.

"You aren't that man, Neville. Maybe you wanted to fade into obscurity after the war, I don't know. I thought that I could make you want the same things as me, but clearly I haven't succeeded. And I don't think I can do this any more."

"What do you want from me?" Running tense fingers through his hair, Neville closed his eyes in exhaustion. "I want a quiet life, Hannah, I always have. What am I supposed to do?"

"Maybe there isn't anything left to do then."

Before Neville could respond, the therapist interjected. "Mr. & Mrs. Longbottom, we are out of time. Before your next visit I will give you some homework. Think hard on your relationship. Write a list of the reasons you love each other and bring it to our next session for us to discuss. I think that it will clarify some things for you both."

* * *

Neville's world was more or less upside down.

Hannah had gone to stay with her mother for the week to give him space and the empty house felt unbearably lonely. Even with Hannah gone most of the time, he had always understood that she would return and that understanding had kept the loneliness at bay. He no longer had that reassurance and felt bereft for it.

The third day of her absence, he finally fled the house, taking a notebook to a close by café to complete his therapy assignment. He had fled to this particular establishment often in the recent weeks, finding the bustle and murmur of the crowds put him at ease as he sipped his tea.

Putting a pen to the paper, he nodded resolutely at no one in particular. Five reasons for why he loved Hannah should suffice. Their therapy appointment wasn't for a few more days, but Neville wanted to get the assignment out of the way as quickly as possible. Five reasons shouldn't be too difficult, right?

_Reasons for Loving Hannah _

_1 We've known each other since school_

_2 We are married_

_3 _

_4 _

_5 _

Twenty minutes later, Neville wasn't any closer to completing. He tapped the pen irritably on the page and smudged the two rather unimpressive reasons already written. Why was this so difficult?

A hand setting a piping hot cup of tea in front of him startled him out of his reverie. Neville was surprised to find that the hand belonged to one Draco Malfoy.

"Thought you could use a refill, Longbottom."

"Ah, thank you," Neville murmured, taking a sip of the tea and finding it to his liking.

At his pleased expression, Draco gestured to the waitress. "You must be a regular for them to know your usual order."

"I am, I suppose. I enjoy the crowds."

Draco eyed him knowingly. "Your harpy of a wife has been absolutely unbearable this week."

Neville hummed in acknowledgement, choosing to take another sip rather than answer.

"Have it your own way," Draco said snidely. "What are you doing with yourself anyway? Still hanging on Potter's every word?"

Neville chose to ignore the implied insult. "I am an apprentice to Professor Sprout actually. I expect to be taking over for her within a year or so."

"Enjoy playing in the mud?"

"Very much so," Neville replied with a straight tone, enjoying the lift of the other man's lips in response.

"What do you do at the ministry?" Neville asked in curiosity. "Biding your time before becoming Minister?"

"Certainly not," Draco sniffed in derision. "My Father taught me that lofty aspirations are best left alone. I have no interest in politics. In fact, I doubt that society would let me court any amount of notoriety or influence. I merely want to gain a living."

"I never would have taken you for enjoying a quiet life."

"Not quiet," Draco corrected condescendingly, "but private."

Neville sighed. "Well your attitude certainly hasn't improved, Malfoy."

There was a beat before Draco eyed him curiously. "You may call me Draco."

Fighting back a blush, Neville responded, "I suppose you can call me Neville then."

Draco eyed him incredulously. "_Of course_ I can." The blond then left in an imperious fashion, throwing a few sickles down to cover the cost of the tea.

Neville barely refrained from rolling his eyes. He smiled to himself and turned back to the list. The words came easily now, flowing off the tip of his pen.

_3 I am never bored with him around. _

_4 We both want a quiet/private life._

_5 He makes me feel_

Neville jerked the pen away from the paper abruptly in the middle of reason #5 and flinched as it clattered to the floor. His breath caught in his throat when he looked over the page. Why was he writing about Draco? And what had he been about to write?

* * *

After he had talked himself out of a panic attack, Neville returned home. The house was dark and quiet, as usual, and he chided himself for expecting it to be otherwise.

Turning the lights and wireless on helped moderate the lonely feeling that permeated everything, but it couldn't distract him from the fact that he was in a great deal of trouble.

His marriage was on the rocks and he was fantasizing about another man! Nothing was going to happen, Neville reassured himself. He just needed to see Hannah again. He was just lonely and Draco happened to be there, nothing more. Right.

He had managed to convince himself that everything was normal by the next morning. Tucking into his eggs and toast, he hummed along to a love song on the wireless. He and Hannah were going to get help and be fine.

The post arrived as he was midway into his meal and he flipped through the delivery quickly. Bill…bill…Daily Prophet subscription notice…letter from Hermione….invitation from Draco…

Neville blinked and turned over the invitation curiously.

_From Mssr. Malfoy_

_To Mssr. Longbottom_

_You are cordially invited to take tea on July 18 at 2 o'clock in the afternoon. Respond to Malfoy Manor. Regrets only._

A giddy anticipation built up in Neville's gut and he did his best to push it down. He would go to tea and prove that nothing was going on. Good plan.


End file.
